


On the Wrong Side of the Window

by PatL



Category: Starsky and Hutch - Fandom
Genre: Gen, co-written with silverladynl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-29
Updated: 2003-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:43:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatL/pseuds/PatL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from "The Plague"</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Wrong Side of the Window

On The Outside, Looking In

Starsky's POV

 

Mesmerized, the dark-haired detective of police, Sgt. David Starsky looked at the blond man in the hospital bed on the other side of the glass. His partner and friend, Sgt. Ken Hutchinson wasn't aware of the fact that he was being watched. He was asleep, but it wasn't a quiet kind of sleep. He was tossing and turning, while little moans escaped from his lips. His subconscious was obviously aware of his immune system fighting a dangerous little creature that was gaining territory inch by inch inside his body. Hutch looked so young and vulnerable that it made Starsky's heart ache. He felt angry and helpless. He wanted to touch his friend to comfort him, but all he could do was watch. Frustrated Starsky focussed on his own image reflected in the window, then looked back at the other man whose face he knew as well as his own. He softly cursed.

Damn this window!

It was the first time the two men were separated like this, with just a window between them; Starsky on one side and Hutch on the other. So close, but yet so far away.

*You shouldn't be lying there, Hutch. And I shouldn't be standing here. But no matter how much I want to be with you right now, I can't. I can only do the task lying ahead of me on *this* side of the glass. I hold your life in my hands and I will do everything I can to give it back to you, I promise. I need you on this side of the window. I can't fight the bad guys without you, Hutch. I need you to watch my back. There's no one else I trust enough to take on that job. Hell, you're probably the only one who can put up with me. You've been doing it for all those years now and you're still not tired of me. How that's possible I don't know. I guess you're as crazy as I am. That makes us perfect as partners; perfect as friends too.  
Day in, day out I have to watch your ugly mug, but I can't imagine one day without you. You're the only consistent thing in my life. Well, you and my car, that is. You're in my blood and if even a little of me is in your blood, then you're going to put up one hell of a fight.  
You'll kick that ugly sucker from here to eternity and you'll be here with me, on the right side of the window in no time. Then we will look at the empty bed and smile.  
You're a fighter. Don't let me down, partner!*

°°°°°°°°°°

Walking down the corridor, Dr. Judith Kaufmann looked at Starsky's still figure in front of the glass window of Hutch's isolation room. It didn't surprise her to find him there. There was a closeness between these men that she had never seen between two people before. From the first day she'd met them she had noticed the way they communicated. Sometimes it was with words, but more often with a nod of the head, a hand on a shoulder, or simply by eye-contact. It was intriguing to see the unspoken words travelling between them. She could feel the words, hear them and see them come to life on Hutch's expressive face.   
Starsky and Hutch weren't just partners, they were friends, very close friends, almost like brothers. One didn't feel complete without the other, and she felt the desperation and anger coming from the dark-haired man. Her heart went out to him. Hutch's life was in Starsky's hands and in hers. She understood his frustration.   
Judith joined Starsky at the window; shoulder to shoulder they watched the sleeping blond man. There was something about Hutch that had touched her, and she had become rather fond of him. It hurt to see him lying in the hospital bed, but she kept looking at him. He looked so much like a little boy. It just wasn't fair.

When Starsky asked her for her lipstick she didn't understand it right away. No man had ever asked her for her lipstick before, and at any other time she would have looked at him strangely, but not this time. This was something between Starsky and Hutch. It was their way of communicating, their way of looking out for each other. Starsky needed this as much as Hutch did. Without hesitation, she gave him her lipstick.  
Quietly she walked away, leaving Starsky alone to do what he needed to do.  
Judith would make sure to tell the nurses no one was allowed to clean the window of the Hutchinson isolation room until its occupant had woken up.

 

°°°°°°°°°°

On the Inside, Looking Out

Hutch's POV

 

Sgt. Ken Hutchinson tossed and turned fitfully on the narrow hospital bed. His body ached and his blond hair stuck to his head as sweat broke out. The fever and pain was courtesy of the ugly little sucker inside his body that was devouring him slowly. The picture Dr. Meredith had shown him looked like a fugitive from a Rorschach test. He didn't know why he had become one of the chosen ones. Many had touched those already infected with the virus, but only a few had succumbed to its fatal attraction. He and his partner, Sgt. David Starsky, had spent a tedious forty-eight hours in isolation, before being released. Both men had breathed sighs of relief, until their cultures were run a second time. After that, Starsky remained free, but suddenly, Hutch was back in isolation. At first, Hutch was merely bored. He wanted to be where the action was, but this was more action than he'd ever wanted, and it wasn't even *his* kind of action. Now, he was sick, afraid, and alone, isolated in a room with only one window, a window separating him from the rest of the world, separating him from his partner.

Painfully, he opened his eyes. The whole room was blurry, and the light hurt his eyes. Hutch closed his eyes then opened them again, squinting against the glare. The huge glass window was the focus of his attention. On it, written in bright red, was one word: Starsk.

Like a tiny prayer, he whispered the name. "Starsk".  
Hutch tried to get out of bed. If he could just touch the glass, the strength his partner had always given him would ease the pain. But the effort was too much for him. Moaning softly, he collapsed back onto the bed. As he pulled the covers up over his shivering body, Hutch groaned. "Uh oh, now it starts."

 

*God, Starsk, I need you. I know you can't be here with me, but I don't think I can do this alone. I don't want to die. You hold my life in your hands, and I know you'll do your best. I wouldn't want anyone else to be out there, fighting for me, but I could use some of that Starsky humour right now. I planned on being there, with you, but Fate had other plans, I guess. If there is a God, I know he won't let me die. Who else would put up with you?   
You're more than my partner; you're more than just a friend. You're the only who can finish my thoughts without me telling you what I'm thinking. You're the only one who can see beyond my sometimes cool demeanour. You're the only man who'd ever held me while I was crying my eyes out with my nose in your shirt. You're the only one who can drive me crazy at times, but I can't imagine my life without you. If anyone can find Callendar in time, and save me, I know it's you. Because no one else would do for me what you've been doing since we became partners. Watching my back with such devotion, that all I could do was the same for you.  
You know I'm not a quitter, Starsk, but do you think you could hurry, just a little bit? I think this ugly little monster is winning, and I don't know how long I can fight it.*

As the chills wracked his body, Hutch looked at Starsky's name, written in red. There was a tug of war going on, with the malevolent virus on one side, and Starsky on the other. The virus attacked him; filling is body with pain, while thoughts of his partner filled his heart with love, and hope. Starsky had written his name on the glass for a reason: to remind Hutch that he was there, on the other side of the glass, and would be there again, when Hutch was ready to join him.

 

*Please hurry, Starsk. I'm scared. I don't want to be on this side of the window, looking out.   
Like you must hate standing on your side of the window, looking in and seeing me like this. The game is "Hutch is dying", but I don't want to die. Fight for me on the outside, Starsk, and I'll try to fight with you on the inside, but you've got to win first, buddy. Only then I have a chance to bring this game to an end. Alive!*

 

THE END


End file.
